


A Crow Without A Murder

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Eventual Polyamoury, Hinata's childhood friends attended Aobajosai bc I'm trash and I love them way too much, M/M, POV Alternating, POV Hinata Shouyou, POV Iwaizumi Hajime, POV Oikawa Tooru, Rating May Change, mentions of bullying, seijou hinata
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-15 11:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9232787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: AU where Hinata was invited to Aobajosai High and, despite his dreams of attending Karasuno, attends.I know this idea has been done again and again but I thought I'd try it myself for no reason other than that I like the idea and I've yet to see it done exactly the way I imagine it. This is purely self indulgent but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.





	1. Chapter 1

Hinata had memorized the map. His mother had insisted and he had enough nervous energy that he gave it a shot, but none of his (admittedly unimpressive) memorization skills had prepared him for the actual campus. The place is a glorified maze. Honestly, how any learning was meant to get done here was a mystery because he had been looking for his class for the last 15 minutes and now he's on the third floor and completely lost. There are several older students looking at him like he's mentally deficient but steadfastly offering no help. Rude.

Seriously, he's glad he went looking for his class early. He has to wonder to himself if Izumi and Kouji are faring much better, but quietly and bitterly he hopes not; because Kouji had teased him about needing the head start and Hinata is nothing if not fueled by spite when it comes to his two best friends. He smothers a yawn with his hand and jogs down the hall, back toward the stairs leading down. He'd start his search from the bottom floor once again, and, he thinks, at least this is all a good workout. Not that he wasn't already riding 2 miles on his bike every morning and afternoon- his mother had offered to buy him a bus pass but he had told her he needed the exercise anyways. Her eyes had scanned him slowly, taking in his near constant excited vibration and happy smile before hesitantly agreeing. 

Not looking, he nearly runs into someone on the stairs, but all he notices is a head of brown hair and a small smirk before he mumbles an apology and continues on his way, marginally more careful not to run into any one else.

He ends up asking for directions from a polite and helpful second year girl who calls him cute, but she reminds him of his mom with the way she pats his head so he doesn't end up nearly as flustered as he might've. It turns out his home room was on the second floor and that Izumi is in his class but not, thankfully, Kouji. Hinata pouts because he had told them what room he was in (3-B) and neither of them had spoken up, but quickly recovers when Izumi offers a bashful apology and rubs the back of his head, his cheeks flushing slightly and he looks so sincere that Hinata couldn't hold a grudge even if he had really intended to.

"I didn't remember that we were in the same class until you had already run off," Izumi explains, a gentle smile on his face that never fails to make Hinata feel like nothing could ever be wrong. It's a special talent, or maybe a superpower. Izumi is super comforting and Kouji is super confident. Hinata's only superpower is that he can turn super red. Or maybe that he can jump super high. Does jumping high count as a superpower in this context? Oh well.

He waves his hand at Izumi's apology and takes the seat behind his friend, "Don't worry about it, do you know what class Kouji is in?" Maybe they can all eat lunch together.

Izumi nods, twisting so that he can continue talking, responding to both the asked question and the unasked wonder, "Kou-chan is in class 2-C and I already texted him about meeting us at the cafeteria since I didn't bring a lunch with me."

Hinata nods eagerly at the idea and they chat about everything and nothing until the teacher arrives. The designated class rep giving the order to stand, bow, and sit back down before the teacher introduces herself with a small smile. She compliments them on how quickly they followed their representative's lead and Hinata can't help a small pleased blush, even if the compliment was directed at the class as a whole. Her name is Sasaki Kei and she's pretty and kind, if otherwise unremarkable.

Lunch comes and goes fairly uneventfully, but as the end of the day nears Hinata becomes increasingly nervous, enough so that Izumi shoots his a few exasperated and worried looks before politely asking him to stop jiggling his chair. Which Hinata tries, he really does, but he needs to get his energy out one way or the other. Tapping his pencil earns him more than a few glares and Izumi already asked him to stop bouncing his knee. So, the only place left for that nervous energy to go is to his already cramping stomach. At least until- "Teacher! May I please be excused?!" He barely waits for her approval before he's darting out the door to the nearest bathroom, emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl. Once he’s emptied himself of his lunch, he leans back on his heels, his stomach finally settling; easing from it's painful cramping to something more manageable. He reaches for the handle, flushing before standing. Desperately resisting the urge to wipe his hands on the nice new creme vest his mother bought him.

He nearly jumps out of his skin, though, when a voice filters through into the stall, muffled by the door and the quiet trickle of water refilling the toilet, "Are you okay?" At least it's a boy's voice, Hinata rationalizes, no matter how gruff it sounds, it's a guy's voice which means that at least Hinata chose the right bathroom in his haste. Actually, he does remember seeing a black haired boy at the urinals as he ran in, he wonders if it's the same guy. 

"Yeah, sorry, I'm good... sorry for, uh, worrying you?" He doesn't know if he's supposed to apologize to a stranger for chucking up in the school's bathroom but at least it seems to work because the guy just mutters an "Alright," and a few seconds later Hinata hears footsteps retreating out of the bathroom. He waits another minute, making sure his stomach has settled completely before stepping out to wash his hands at the, now, blissfully unoccupied sinks. He gargles water and spits it out in a minorly successful attempt at washing the sour taste from his mouth.

When he gets back to class the teacher asks him if he needs to go to the nurse and he's able to truthfully and cheerfully reply, "Nope! I'm feeling much better now!"

Even though he throws up again between 5th and 6th period; but Izumi is the only one who notices his disappearance. And the black haired boy is nowhere to be seen, so that’s a relief. He wouldn't want a rumor to start that he's bulimic or something; he's been told he's feminine, but even if he was a girl he can't imagine being the kind who purges herself after every meal. Why go through the trouble of eating something if you're just going to end up throwing it up? It seems wasteful.

He just doesn't get it- although, he’s also been told that he's a little bit simple, which, while rude, is probably true. Life is just easier when things are simple, so who would want to be complicated?

 

 

A few hours later his stomach cramps return with even more force than before as he jogs toward the gym. Tryouts are today; but since Hinata was scouted he's already guaranteed a place on the team. Although they still have to test him to see exactly where he belongs. What his strengths and weaknesses are. It's called 'Evaluations'.

He's excited to finally be allowed to play on a team, that's definitely a part of the way his stomach is twisting painfully. But more than that, he's afraid that they're going to realize how much of an amateur he really is and then they won't want him anymore. He's still got barely any experience, even after playing with the women's team over the summer and practicing with Kouji and Izumi when they weren't too busy. He's still clumsy when it comes to receiving and his serves are lacking and he's afraid that he'll be benched all the time since there are such amazing, well rounded players on the team. But he swallows his fears as he steps into the gym, stepping past the already open double doors and breathing in the distinct smell of salonpas. He's never used the stuff, himself, but a ton of pros do. He remembers smelling it during his (only) middle school tournament. It's not a good smell, per se, but just what it meant made it enchanting enough. 

Hovering awkwardly around the entrance he glances around- everyone seems to just be milling about for now, and there's a surprising number of other first years. Hinata wonders how many of them were scouted and how many are just here for tryouts. There are so many people here, none of whom he recognizes, not at first glance, anyways; but there's a net already set up and ladder standing next to it. He makes eye contact with a few people, but he's too nervous to do anything but smile shyly. 

Everybody is still in their school uniforms, most of them are even wearing blazers... is he in the wrong place? But that can't be it because there's the volleyball net and everything... But then where are the 3rd years? Everyone here seems to be 1st years... He shakes his head, slapping his cheeks to try and stop thinking about it, but ends up whining under his breath and rubbing his stomach when another bout of cramping starts up. He wants to throw up again, but he's too nervous to go to the bathroom because he doesn't want to miss any kind of announcement. So instead he shuffles away from the door so that he's not in the way and squirms uselessly, fisting his hands in his sweater and trying to hold in any and all noises of discomfort that threaten to worm their way out.

He recieves a few concerned looks which he attempts to meet with a stoic face. He fails. Surprise. Swallowing he looks around, scanning again for anyone he recognizes and pouts when he doesn’t see anyone. He’s about to give up and pull out his phone when a few boys step in front of him and- “Turnip head!” He points, his finger thrusting up into the boy’s face before he realizes what he’s doing and presses back into the wall, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Whaddaya want,” he asks, biting the inside of his cheek. Hinata’s eyebrows draw in when the other boy only smirks and steps forward, making Hinata press firmly back. Pausing only to glare when one of his friends laughs at him being called ‘Turnip head! So accurate, you look like a radish!’, he looks quickly back to Hinata, though, his smirk curling casually. “You know,” he says, lifting his hand up to settle it in Hinata’s hair, “A shorty like you really should try out for a different sport. I hear that on the swim team they don’t care about your height.”

Hinata’s eyes go wide for a brief second before he scowls, “Hey, I may be short but I can jump high!” He hates nothing more than having his height insulted, “Why do you even care?” There’s no reason for Hinata  _ not _ to be on the team, it’s not like he couldn’t just be put on the sidelines if he’s not good enough to be a starter, “You’re just worried because I spiked past you at the tournament!” And, oh, yeah, that seems to strike a cord. He smiles when a surprised look overtakes Turnip Head’s face but his pleasure at doing something unexpected disappears with a squeak when a cough to the left startles him. 

He looks at the person who coughed, an older boy with spiky black hair who looks distinctly ‘displeased’. It’s enough to make Hinata rush into an apologetic bow, fast enough that he ends up knocking his nose into another boy’s hand and yelping. One thing happens after another and it’s only a few seconds later that he finds himself looking up from the floor; his butt aching with how hard he just fell back on it and his nose smarting from the way it was pseudo slapped. He looks between the older boy, Turnip Head, and a few of the other people who stopped to stare at the commotion, and feels his face flooding with warmth. Making his cheeks burn bright red with embarrassment. 

For several long seconds after that, it’s silent, then he hears a light floaty laughter echoing from somewhere behind the older black haired boy and, if possible, his cheeks burn even brighter. He ends looks at the floor and hearing Turnip Head mutter an apology before walking away, leaving Hinata alone. Letting out a choked whine he wonders silently if there’s a way that the earth could open up and swallow him whole so that he doesn’t have to look up and put a face to the sly voice saying, “Aw, what happened here, Iwa-chan? I leave you alone for 3 minutes and you start bullying the first years?”

It’s not a voice he recognizes, though, deep despite being light and airy. It’s unique enough that he looks up despite his shame, his eyes coming to rest on another older boy with fluffy brown hair and a smirk. Hinata swallows, looking at ‘Iwa-chan’ before looking back to the prettier boy, “He didn’t- uh, I mean, I wasn’t being bullied?” He lets it tilt into a question at the end even though it shouldn’t be. He shakes his head quickly, then gives the boy a more steadfast look and scrambles to stand up, “I wasn’t being bullied, I did it to myself, senpai!” 

The pretty boy waves a hand in front of his nose, looking unbelievably pleased, “Oh, don’t call me senpai. Just call me Oikawa!” He pauses meaningfully and smiles, leaning forward slightly so that his face in near Hinata’s, “Or you could just call me Captain~” Hinata just blinks, momentarily stone faced before his eyes go wide with awe and his mouth drops open and he looks at Oikawa excitedly, so many questions he wants to ask piling up in his head to the point where he can’t think of what he wants to ask first.

What he ends up saying, instead, is, “C-captain!” and making a shrill noise in the back of his throat before rushing to say, “I- I saw you! In a video! I watched Aoba Josai play against Karasuno and you were playing and you- you-” he jumps, waving his arms, “Will you toss to me!?” He’s never had somebody as good as Oikawa toss to him! He knows he’ll probably get to experience it soon, one way or another, but he doesn’t want to wait. Just the idea of it has him vibrating, every shred of his previous embarrassment forgotten under the phantom thrill of spiking a ball. He just wants to feel that ache in his palm as he makes contact- or, at least, preferably the ball would hit his palm. Many a time he has missed the ball with his hand and only made contact as it slammed into his face. He’d prefer to avoid being teased about volleyball induced black eyes and bruises along his jawline. 

“Ah,” Oikawa sounds almost startled, straightening up from the lean he had been in. He gives Hinata a sincerely apologetic look and shakes his head, “I would, but I’m still on leave, shorty. I injured my knee!” He leans down to pat the brace he’s already strapped on, “But we’ve got a few other setters who I’m sure would be happy to toss to you once tryouts and evaluations are over!” He smiles, cheerfully, ruffling the now disappointed boy’s hair. “We have morning practice in the mornings as well as the afternoons, morning practice isn’t obligatory but you seem like you’ll probably want to come. I’ll toss to you if you come in the mornings, okay?” He looks like he’s tentatively pleased, but he’s probably worrying about his knee because his smile falters for a moment. But nonetheless Hinata nods eagerly. Clutching his hands in the soft fabric of his sweater and smiling. Okay, so he can wait, but hopefully not too long! He’s definitely coming tomorrow morning and asking Oikawa-san toss to him. But until then he can wait, for now all he has to do is prove that he’s good enough in evaluations.

Oikawa smiles and ruffles his hand through Hinata’s hair one more time before stepping past him to grab ‘Iwa-chan’s’ wrist and pulling the older boy away toward the net. Hinata trails behind them, but pauses when he makes eye contact with Turnip Head across the gym. He sneers, sticking his tongue out quickly before turning away and thrusting his nose in the air, set on getting the last word. 

He doesn’t want to be friends with a bully like Turnip Head (Kibou? Kichi?) anyways, so it shouldn’t matter if he acts a bit childish, right? 

A single loud clap resonates through the gym and everyone looks toward the source; which happens to be Oikawa, sitting at the top of the ladder and smiling down at all of them. First years and second years alike. He explains how he’ll be selecting who gets on the team, and that the students who were scouted from middle school as well as the second years who played on the team last year are guaranteed spots. Of course they still need to go through evaluations, though. He nods down at the other 3rd year, the spiky haired boy, and says, “Evaluations will be conducted by our beloved Iwaizumi Hajime, also known as Iwa-chan~” He laughs when Iwaizumi just narrows his eyes before continuing, “And I’ll be testing the new tryouts!” Once again he claps, the same sharp, resounding sound as earlier, and gestures toward the large double doors. Not the ones they had entered through, but the ones on the other side of the court. “Iwa-chan is going to take his group outside while the rest of you stay with me!”

Hinata bites the inside of his cheek, earlier anxiety coming back as he realizes how small the group leaving with Iwaizumi is. He follows them out the door and takes a large, grateful breath of fresh air. Pausing to close his eyes for a moment and regain his composure before nodding to himself and jogging after the group. He can do this. He can prove himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Iwaizumi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Oikawa had told him that he’s specially picked one of the first years that were scouted and, obviously, Iwaizumi had assumed they’d be good. Or at least passable. He’s quickly remembering that he can’t trust Oikawa with anything. Ever. Because this kid is a mess, granted that he’s extremely athletic, but it’s obvious his anxiety is taking a toll on whatever talent he may have and he’s only getting worse.

He leans back against one of the pillars and puts his hand out. Stopping Hinata halfway through his string of words that had something to do with being sorry. “I’m not upset,” looking up toward the sky, he’s not entirely certain that it’s the truth, but it’s undoubtedly what the kid needs to hear. The poor red haired boy looks ready to explode, or maybe (probably) cry. And Iwaizumi can’t even blame him; he’d done evaluations for the second years first, all of them were experienced players, not extremely talented, but well rounded and hard working. They’d all gotten average and slightly above average marks on their eval forms and Iwaizumi had sent them home, leaving behind only the small boy with cheeks that looked green and anxiety written plain as day in his eyes. But Iwaizumi hadn’t payed it any mind, most players get nervous when they’re trying to show what they’re worth.

Of course, he hadn’t suspected that Hinata had stage fright. Or maybe performance anxiety? Whatever it is, though, it’ll play into the evaluation. They can’t put a player on the court during an important game who freezes up as soon as there’s pressure put on them. They need to be able to count on their teammates not to get overwhelmed, or else that person is useless to them. He told Hinata as much, and hadn’t taken any pleasure in the boy freezing up. Upsetting his teammates has never been something Iwaizumi took pleasure in, he doesn’t like to be the one to ‘break the news’ to somebody, and in this moment he despises Oikawa for foisting this kid on him. He’s never been good at knowing what to do when people are acting emotional and right now everything he does seems to be making the situation worse instead of better.

With one more sigh and a lot of willpower he looks down at Hinata, who looks, now, certainly on the verge of tears, and asks, “What are you wanting to do? Do you want to be a Libero? Or maybe a setter?” Hopefully something feasible, at least. Lord knows he hasn’t figured out what Oikawa liked in this kid, yet. He’s terrible at receiving, has no control over his serves, and his slides are barely better than a beginner. And with his height, there’s no way he could be a powerful blocker. He’s just too short.

Iwaizumi doesn’t expect the way Hinata’s face brightens at the question, like for a moment. Like his worries have been set aside for something of greater importance. It makes Iwaizumi proud to have done something right, and hopeful that this kid has some kind of secret strength that he knows how to play to- his hopes are quickly dashed, however, as the enthusiastic words, “I wanna be the ace!” leave Hinata’s mouth. His mouth falls open slightly, he really can’t help it, but he quickly shuts it, his teeth clinking together with the force he uses. Taking a deep breath he looks toward the sky, praying for some kind of reprieve before he looks back at Hinata.

It takes him a second, looking at the boy’s bright face, before he nods. Resigned. If he wants to be ace, then he has to spike. So why don’t they see if he can do that. Maybe there are miracles after all. “Alright,” he says, hoping Hinata doesn’t hear the disappointment in his voice. The last thing they need is for that previous anxiety to return full force. “I’m not a setter, but I should be able to give you some fairly decent tosses. Why don’t you show me what you’ve got if you want to be the ‘ace’.” Technically Iwaizumi is the current ace, but everyone seems to think of Oikawa as the ‘unofficial’ ace. Which was annoying at first, but really, it makes sense. The ace is supposed to be the best player, the one who scores the most points, and even if Oikawa isn’t taking the points himself, he’s certainly the one making them happen.

He doesn’t miss the way Hinata’s face goes from bright to brighter, almost blindingly so, and forces a small encouraging smile. Suddenly the boy seems like he’s vibrating out of his skin, a stark difference from the feeble, nervous shaking of only a few minutes prior. He looks... invigorated, now, not sick. If he continues with this level of enthusiasm he could be a good player no matter how poorly he starts. All it takes to become a good player is a willingness to learn, after all. So Iwaizumi nods, bending down to pick up the ball resting at his feet. 

They test a few soft, arching tosses. Hinata hits all of them with varying degrees of success, but none of it’s worth being scouted for. Better than mediocre but not good. He’s passionate, and he’s obviously got a bit of natural talent, but he’s not hitting the ball hard enough, and he’s not aiming. When Iwaizumi tells him so, and gives him some tips, the boy only seems to get worse. It’s almost like he ends up hyperfocusing- he tries hitting the ball harder, but misses completely. He tries improving his aim but then he’s not even hitting hard enough to get the ball over the net! It’s the worst kind of give and take and Iwaizumi honestly cannot tell what the hell Crappykawa sees in this kid. The only thing that’s been even semi impressive so far has been Hinata’s jump height, but even that is only impressive compared to his height. 

They practice for another half hour (and when did this become practice instead of evaluation), with only marginal improvement from Hinata. It’s like something just... isn’t clicking. The boy seems dedicated to learning more and excited to be allowed to do anything at all, but he’s just... 

He’s not cut out for it. He’s too short and he’s too scatterbrained. It’d be a different story if he had had some kind of special talent, but he doesn’t. Seemingly he’s just a kid who loves volleyball, and Iwaizumi respects that, he really does, but they don’t scout kids because they love volleybal. They scout for talent, not passion. Because without talent, passion can only get you so far. That’s the reality. A harsh reality, but a reality nonetheless. Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything about that, though. For whatever reason, no matter how inconceivable it may seem, Hinata was scouted. He’s guaranteed a place on the team, and Iwaizumi has enough tact not to just crush this boy’s dreams.

Instead, he shakes his head when Hinata asks for another toss and says, “We’re gonna wrap up. I’ve finished your evaluation, Hinata, I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.” Ignoring the disappointed look that settles over the red haired boy’s face, he walks around the net to grab the ball and tucks it against his side. “Go home and get some rest. I expect you’ll be wanting to come to morning practice so you shouldn’t push yourself too hard.” Iwaizumi doesn’t usually attend morning practice, he doesn’t see the point because it just leaves him tired for the rest of the day, but he imagines he’ll probably be coerced into attending for the next few weeks, one way or another. For whatever inane reason, Oikawa has invested in his kid. And Iwaizumi doesn’t want stupid Trashykawa hurting himself to try and make this all pan out. So instead Iwaizumi will sacrifice his beauty sleep, and possibly sanity, to make this kid a respectable player. At least until Oikawa’s knee heals up enough that he can take Hinata out of his hands.

He follows Hinata back into the gym, accepting the boy’s explanation of, “I need to grab my bags and my bike before I can leave!”, even though he doesn’t really require any explanation at all. True to his word, though, the boy grabs his backpack from where it’s leaning against the wall, waving and smiling before jogging out the double doors that he came in from at the start. Iwaizumi turns, once Hinata is gone, and sits back to wait. It looks like there are only two students left, probably asking questions, since Oikawa seems so focused on whatever he’s telling them about. Or maybe he’s giving them advice. It seems just like Oikawa, to go above and beyond for even those who haven’t even been placed on the team, yet. It’s a few minutes before the two students, tall for first years, finally leave. Iwaizumi just waits for Oikawa to come to him, his friend walking over with a small, satisfied smile. Not quite like the ones he so often wears in public. Oikawa saves his real smiles, keeps them private. Not many people are allowed to see these small smiles that Oikawa keeps close to his heart.

Iwaizumi, despite all pretenses, is glad to be one of these people. He’s glad that, despite being inherently terrible at reading people, he knows what all of Oikawa’s ‘looks’ mean. He knows that this smile means he’s tired, but proud of how many exceptional players tried out. He knows that this smile means Oikawa is going to want to stop for pork buns on their way home and that he’s going to want to practice tomorrow morning even though it could hurt him. So Iwaizumi just sighs, standing up from where he’s sat, leaning against the wall, and says, “I forbid it.”

He doesn’t laugh when Oikawa’s smile turns sly and he asks, “What are you forbidding, Iwa-chan~?”, as though he doesn’t know exactly what Iwaizumi is talking about. Instead he just sighs, shaking his head. It’s no use arguing, anyways. And forbidding Oikawa from doing something just makes it all the more likely that it will happen. He doesn’t try to explain himself, or try to convince Oikawa not to go to practice in the morning, he just steps forward and punches his friend in the arm before continuing past. He doesn’t acknowledge he cries of, “Ah! Iwa-chan! What was that for~ you’re being all cryptic! You forbid me from doing some vague thing and then you give me a dead arm for no reason!”

Honestly, as satisfying as it is to hear Oikawa whine, though, it does get annoying fast. So, as they’re leaving the school gates and Oikawa is halfway through berating Iwaizumi for something along the lines of ‘never telling him what he’s thinking’ Iwaizumi says, “If you shut up then I’ll buy you 3 pork buns.” He’s not sure he’s ever heard Oikawa go quiet so quickly, which is a shame. Iwaizumi can’t afford to buy pork buns whenever he wants Oikawa to be quiet, he’ll be broke within a week.

They’re silent until they’ve exited the small store, closer to Oikawa’s house than Iwaizumi’s, but as soon as Iwaizumi hands Oikawa the bag containing the pork buns it seems to open the flood gates. “What did you think of the shorty? He’s so cute and his hair is so fluffy and he’s got this amazing jump and did you see him spike the ball-” Iwaizumi holds up his hand, shaking his head and trying for the life of him not to snap at Oikawa. Instead taking the moment of quiet to arrange his thoughts.

“I don’t-” he stops himself, shaking his head. He shouldn’t start negative, that will just make Oikawa defensive and upset. “He’s a good kid, he’s trying hard, but I don’t see what it is that you like about him.” Iwaizumi risks a glance over at Oikawa’s face, only to see it twisted with confusion, he continues, “The only thing he seemed really enthusiastic about was spiking, and even then he’s barely managing to hit the ball most times.” He knows what’s coming before Oikawa even opens his mouth, petulant denial, probably, so Iwaizumi just lifts his hand again and starts walking. “There’s no point in arguing, I already wrote up my evaluation,” he levels Oikawa with a serious look that belies the childish anger on the setter’s face. “The coach is going to expect you to make him worth our while. That means extra hours and extra train,” he glances pointedly down at his friend’s knee before looking up at his face. “You’re not allowed to injure yourself again for this kid. I don’t care if that means he’s completely sidelined until your better, or if I have to train him myself, but you’re not allowed screw yourself up anymore.”

Oikawa’s face seems to smooth out after that declaration, and he looks away, forward, down the darkening street toward his home; Iwaizumi’s not entirely sure it’s a good thing. “Wow,” Oikawa says, but he’s using that tone of voice that means his words are just filler. Oikawa does that, just talks while he’s thinking. He fills silence in a way that Iwaizumi isn’t usually inclined to do. “I think that’s the most I’ve heard you talk all at once in years, Iwa-chan.” It’s probably true, although Iwaizumi has been quite eloquent in the past when it comes to telling Oikawa how much of a fucking idiot he is when it comes to any injuries. 

He just shakes his head and lets Oikawa fill the silence with small, meaningless comments until they arrive at his front door. By the time they’ve stopped, Oikawa face looks significantly closer to usual. Which probably means he’s figured out how to handle the situation. Iwaizumi won’t bother asking, he’ll figure out the plan soon enough, even if Oikawa never decides to tell him. So he just lets Oikawa hug him and says, “Actually get some sleep tonight, Shittykawa,” before the door closes on his best friend’s smile. 

It’s only 10 minutes from Oikawa’s house to his own, 10 minutes he spends with his headphones covering his ears. Music playing and his brain working on what each of the boys he evaluated today could work on. Some of them, the second years, were already fairly well rounded. They’d had the people that Iwaizumi and Oikawa had called senpai training them. Seijo is a school for the talented, physically or mentally, and the rich. It’s not a school for the passionate or the driven- because passion and drive can’t replace talent no matter how hard you believe. For Oikawa’s sake he hopes that Hinata has some kind of hidden talent, because Seijo isn’t the place for a country bumpkin and Iwaizumi and Oikawa can’t keep the other boys from trying to teach him that themselves. 

Once he’s home he showers and he sits down to do his homework, responding only to a few of Oikawa’s incessant texts. Usually he’d just turn his phone off, but at least Oikawa is texting him about things that matter, even if he is using far too many words. He answers the questions that have to do with the team and the math homework, but not the ones that have to do aliens and pokemon. It’s a delicate balance. 

It’s not often that he takes the initiative in texting, and it’s nearly 11pm. But he knows, even though he told him to get some sleep, Oikawa is still awake, so he shoots him a short message. It’s simple and to the point, how Iwaizumi prefers to communicate, it says, ‘I think we should kick Hinata off the team.’

He expects a response, what he doesn’t expect is his phone buzzing in his palm, lighting up to tell him Oikawa is calling him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :) if you want to write anything you think about the fic and be sure I'll notice it then you can make a tumblr post and tag it #hiscrowsmurder 
> 
> I'm not sure how often I'll be updating this, but I'll try to keep it fairly regular even if I don't keep a schedule, feel free to constructive criticism in the comments of the fic but please leave it out of the tumblr tag, please... :) I'll see you guys for the next update.
> 
> Feel free to suggest content for the next chapter! Thanks for reading!


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